


Per Speculum In Aenigmate

by Thette



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Demon Dean, Episode: s09e18 Meta Fiction, Implied Castiel/Dean Winchester, M/M, Mark of Cain, hints of - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-20
Updated: 2014-04-20
Packaged: 2018-01-20 04:21:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1496479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thette/pseuds/Thette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Very angsty introspection from Dean and Cas, taking place during the episode Meta Fiction. Not a happy ending. Not overly shippy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Per Speculum In Aenigmate

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mostly10](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mostly10/gifts).



> For Lost Shoe on Tumblr, because I hear it's her birthday, and I know she likes demon!Dean. Also for mostly10, who got an accidental cameo.
> 
> Title from the Vulgata Latin Bible translation, 1 Corinthian 13:12. KJV: "For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known."

Dean shuddered, cold to the bone despite the scalding shower he had just taken. He wiped the steam from the mirror, watching the features that should be familiar. They weren't. Alastair's word about making him into a new animal rang through his head, and he dragged his hands over his face, his head, trying to get rid of the feeling that he never really left Hell.

There should be someone else. Over the last few years, he'd become familiar with the sudden appearance of another face in the bathroom mirror. A pair of blue eyes, a presence too close behind him. He couldn't shake the feeling that Cas wouldn't appear right now even if he had his wings back. Was there any reason to try and save him anymore?

He braced himself against the sink, turning his head down and taking deep breaths. If there was nothing worth saving in him anymore, he could always be useful. A weapon. The First Blade rather than Michael's Sword, but it was no different in the end. Everything he had ever done had lead him here, to this choice, to this Mark.

***

Castiel tried to focus. Theo's grace made everything more difficult. He saw an overlap of true forms and vessels or meat suits whenever he looked at angels and demons. The only reason they hadn't yet caught him was that he was fighting on instinct, letting the millennia on the frontline and the forty years in Hell take over his body, regardless of what he could see with his human eyes and his True Sight.

He was reminded of Paul. You could say a lot about Paul, obsessed as he had been with one thing after another, but he had a way with words. His current sight was really "through a glass, darkly". He'd tried to watch the souls of people he met on the street, but instead of seeing their deepest fears and desires, he got mere snatches and hints. The bleached blonde with the tattoos, her soul had whispered about a dog, but he didn't even catch if the dog was alive or dead, or if it was a dog she owned, or just one she desperately wanted. Even when he had been human, he had felt more complete than he did now.

But it was all a means to an end. Theo's grace was what he needed to fight Metatron, and any other angel who would threaten the Earth and humanity.

***

"There's something different about you," Cas said, staring at Dean. Dean was the one who broke eye-contact, trying to deflect with a friendly slap on Cas' shoulder. (Nothing like the hug he wanted. Or had wanted. He didn't really know anymore.) Cas grabbed his arm, held onto his hand and uncovered the Mark. "What have you done?" he asked, in an even lower voice than usual.

Dean yanked his arm back. "It's a means to an end," he said, challenging Cas with his gaze.

"Dammit, Dean!"

Again, Dean was the one who broke, leaving the only two people he had left in his life behind. They talked about him, he knew, and the Mark itched. If they were getting in the way, he'd have to kill them. Nothing was allowed to stop him, not now, not after everything he had given. He just wished they would see it, before he had to take action. A wave of relief, followed by more itching, came over him when he thought about killing. Sam took his seat, and they drove away in silence.

***

Castiel wished he could see Dean's soul properly, just one more time. A soul wasn't just the intense, blue glow that humans could see, it was a dazzling aurora of colors and light. Dean's had been spectacularly beautiful, even when it was marred by the black of hellfire and the red of torture. Now, in as much as he could see with Theo's Sight, it was streaked in a deep maroon. The gold and green he had cradled in his Grace as they rose together from Hell was locked away, deep in a cage of bloodlust. He wished he could step into Dean's most personal space, reach into his very soul and twist those bars away, letting the stream of Dean's essence out again.

But he wasn't allowed. Not until they had killed Abaddon, and by then, it might be too late. He looked down on his feet, and steeled himself for the task of gathering an angel army and killing Metatron.


End file.
